


seven days

by musicofthespheres



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, heads up: this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: how would you spend your last week if you found out you only had seven days to live?





	seven days

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd. all mistakes mine.

**_Day One_ **

_“It’s fatal. She’s going to die.”_

_“How long?”_

_“She’ll be gone in a week. I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do.”_

He let her drive home. Her face was serene, like she’d already come to terms with it. He wondered if she’d known. It was only four thirty pm and the sky was streaked with brilliant shades of blue and orange that reflected off her blue hair. 

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

She retreated into her lab and worked for nine hours straight. He found her sequestered there, burning the midnight oil. “Come to bed,” he murmured in her ear, his carefully-restrained voice not betraying the maelstrom threatening to burst forth. 

“Soon, my love,” she sighed. Behind her, a strange chamber took shape. “Soon.” 

When she came to bed, they made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms. And in the morning, she showed him what she’d made. 

 

**_Day Two_ **

The second day they kept for themselves. They told Trunks, but little Bulla was too young to understand. 

“Why can’t they cure you?” Trunks asked. “Why can’t they make you better?” 

She smiled sadly. “Some things are beyond medical understanding, sweetheart.” She ruffled his hair and continued preparations. 

She gave her beloved a logbook to record every important event for her. He was stoic and silent and she knew he was trying to be strong. 

And then it was time. She said goodbye to her children and spent the last minutes alone with her husband.

“I knew my lifespan would encompass yours,” he whispered. “But not like this. Not like this.” 

She held his hands and kissed his fingers, putting on a brave face. “I’ll see you soon, my love.” 

 

 ** _Day Three_**

She was already feeling weak. It was not just the effects of the cryostasis; the illness was already taking its toll. They’d had an outfit made for her, long, shimmering, and blue to match her eyes and hair. They sat in the front row to watch the ceremony up close.

Their boy looked so grown-up. His bride stood across from him decked in white. There were tears in their eyes. 

She cried as Trunks read his vows.

And Bulla. Dear, sweet Bulla. She’d become a beautiful young woman in her own right. She looked just like her mother and had enough fire in her soul to power a thousand galaxies. 

At the reception, surrounded by the ones she loved, her son and new daughter-in-law, her husband, and her oldest friends, she knew it had been worth the wait for them. 

They danced together, and held each other close long after everyone had gone home. 

 

**_Day Four_ **

Her husband looked older. He walked down the aisle arm in arm with their gorgeous daughter, beaming with pride. He stood with his wife to give her away when the time came. Her parents sat beside them. She feared this would be the last day she saw them.

Her gown was fit for a princess, and that’s just what Bulla was: the last daughter of the Saiyan royal house. 

Her mother was tired. Partway through the reception, after the speeches and first dances, she slipped away to her laboratory to read what he’d written. He’d kept it immaculate for her. Finger paintings, science fair projects, diplomas, and travel photos adorned the wall. She ran her hands along them, desperately sad at how much she had missed, and thankful for how much she got to experience. 

He found her in minutes, holding her by her waist and pulling her close. “This is our legacy. Our children have accomplished so much.” 

“Because you’ve been there for them,” she said, breaking down again.

 

**_Day Five_ **

She knew something was wrong when she opened her eyes. He was there, waiting with their children and their spouses. 

“Both of them? Gone?” 

He nodded. “There was an accident. They felt no pain.” 

“I always thought they’d die in their sleep. One of old age, and the other of heartbreak not long after.” She couldn’t help but notice the grey hair creeping in at his temples, the new scars that adorned his cheeks. He’d taken good care of her parents for her, and she was grateful.

They paid their respects and sat on the balcony with a glass of wine. The night sky was clear and thousands of glittering stars adorned it like sequins on cosmic fabric.

“What do you think the sky will be like on my last day?” she asked. 

“Pristine,” he replied. He reached out to hold her hand, movements slower than she remembered them being in her yesterday. More tender. He’d changed. “I sit by you every day.” 

“What about your training?” 

“Earth is safe and I love you more.” 

That was the first time she’d ever heard those words from his lips. 

 

**_Day Six_ **

“She has your colour” she told Trunks. The lavender-haired child wiggled in her arms, eyebrows scrunched up in that oh-so-familiar way. She felt a pang of longing for what was and what could have been. When she woke up next, she hoped they had gained everything that had been stolen from her.

The family portrait turned out beautifully, but her cheeks were gaunt, her eyes sunken. She felt within herself it was almost time. Almost, but not yet. 

Today was the last day they’d planned for; her yesterday had been a sad surprise, with both of her parents at once. But as they lay in bed together that night with delicate touches and fragile kisses, they wordlessly agreed how her last day on this mortal plane would be spent. 

**_Day Seven_ **

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He thought they’d trained for the eventuality of a new threat, that their children and their children’s children were ready. But there he lay, bloody handprints streaking down the glass on her chamber. He’d barely had the strength to unlock the final wakeup sequence before collapsing to the floor. 

The minutes slid by in agonized silence, every second plunging him closer to oblivion. Finally, the hiss of the chamber door broke through his semi-consciousness. It was time. 

“Vegeta,” she whispered, her strength failing her and bringing her to her knees. “What happened?” She cradled his head with weak fingers, stroking his bloodied cheeks. 

“My Bulma, how I have longed to see you…” he whispered. The lights above framed her face like a halo, and he knew he could die in her peaceful embrace. 

“Vegeta, no, this wasn’t the plan…!” she let a sob rack her body as the life drained from his face. “Please, I don’t want to live for a _second_ without you!” 

“Bulma,” he whispered. “Everything… has been… for you.” 

She stroked his hair late into the night until she felt the darkness coming for her. And as she fought the heaviness of her eyelids, she swore she saw his hand extend through the haze to reach for hers. 

And in the early hours of morning, Bulma Briefs took her last breath.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, as always, are appreciated.


End file.
